“Have fun!” I waved Scott out the back door, false smile plastered on my face. Dear God, I thought he’d never leave. And yet, he’s ten minutes early. “Kids, good news! You’re having a play date with Kristopher.”
“Now.” Linda’s van honked from my driveway. I herded my children out front. “Hurry up.”
They couldn’t see my hands shaking as I shooed Sam to sit beside Kristopher. They couldn’t feel my heart racing as I kissed them goodbye. They had no idea what I was about to do. “Don’t forget Sam’s six o’clock meds.”
Linda held up the pill bottle.… Read the rest
“Jessie, where the fuck are we?”
“I’ve been lost since the Presidio.” Broken glass littered the sidewalk, and Scott had just stepped on a spent shotgun shell, its ruffled blast end an unmistakable sign of what had happened to the mason jars around our feet.
Scott’s friend Kelly, who had joined us willingly enough after lunch, said “The Presidio. That was awhile ago.”
“How long have we been walking?”
Scott checked his watch. “Four, five hours, give or take.”
Kelly said, “That’s pretty low on the old priority list right now.”
He had a point. What had started as a ramble along the waterfront to reach the Golden Gate bridge had delivered us to a neighborhood of thinly spread houses.… Read the rest
In 2003, you got me candy for Valentine’s Day. We barely knew I was pregnant. Well, we barely “knew knew”. You’d been listening to me bitch that I couldn’t possibly be pregnant for over a month, but because you are kind, you took me at my word instead of my opposite. So things had only been formal for a week or two.
The chocolate rose you gave me sat on my desk untouched. I wanted to eat it. My God, I’d married a man who thought I deserved holiday treats. We’d been dating just shy of four years, we’d been married sixteen months, and I was still gobsmacked by the sight of your stubbly cheeks every morning.… Read the rest
Thirteen years ago, I knew by the end of our first date that I would marry you. That certainty rendered me speechless. At the beginning of the evening,
I did not believe in true love
I did not believe in love at first sight
I did not believe in having children
and I did not believe in trusting people you barely knew.
And four hours later, I not only believed all of those things, I embraced them.
I had my standards set so high that I had never actually dated. At all. Because dating was a great way to get hurt.… Read the rest
I don’t repost a lot here on Jester Queen. In fact, this will be a first time ever. In honor of my eleventh anniversary tomorrow, here is what I wrote about the tenth anniversary last year.
Last modified on 2012-03-13 14:35:04 GMT. 12 comments. Top.
After we’d been living together about a year, we progressed to formal engagement in September of 2000.… Read the rest
Poor Scott. He’s my sounding board for all my story ideas. He has to be prepared at the drop of a hat to answer questions about presidential elections, random animal behaviors, and everything else that pops into my head. I can Google this shit. But I don’t. At least, not until after I ask him.
Because here’s the thing about Scott. He is a repository of facts. If he hadn’t gone into history, he’d have made a damned fine librarian, because he is also an expert in knowing what questions to ask.
And usually, when I ask him these things, I’m in a spurt of idea generation.… Read the rest
In the absence of a ball game, we took Scott out to the rain delay to celebrate his birthday. Not quite the same. But then, we’ve never been your standard family, so we enjoyed it a lot until everything was cancelled outright. Oh well. We get in free come Saturday. Happy Birthday, hon.
The snacks were good, anyway. Of course, it was ballpark food, so that probably goes without saying. I’m dieting. I ate exactly one bite of a hot dog. #martyrproblems. Oh, and then I went and got the car, all dolled up for our inability to remember umbrellas.… Read the rest
Scrape-squeak-squeak. Scrape-squeak-squeak. Dunk-gadunk squeeeee.
“ I think we have rats in the attic.” I stood in the hall looking up.
Scott came from his office and listened with me. “Attic fan.”
“But it sounds like The Devil in The Exorcist. You remember that scene where Ellen Burstyn tries to convince the housekeeper there’s a rodent infestation, only it turns out to be Satan?”
“Jessie, the only thing I remember about The Exorcist is that you said it was suspense and dragged me off to see the director’s cut in 2000.”
“It is suspense! And it sounds like it’s living in our attic.” I pointed at the ceiling.… Read the rest
“Turn it down.” Scott’s face loomed as my door swung open.
“I had that closed.”
“We can hear you in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s too loud.” Caroline poked her head under her father’s elbow.
“You’re only complaining because it’s heavy metal. If I had the Beatles up, you’d be in here dancing.”
“You’ve got Beatles? I want the Beatles!” Sam joined the fray with enthusiasm unreasonable for someone who should have been zoned out in front of the TV.
I clicked around until my desk stopped shaking with the gunshots of “For Those About to Rock, We Salute You.”
Scott rubbed the back of his head.… Read the rest
These two pictures hang above my desk. They say an awfully lot without my needing to interpret them for you, but let me talk awhile anyway. My husband is not just a father to our children. He’s their Daddy. Sam, who is a Mama’s boy, has lately started demanding his Daddy-hugs at bedtime again and saying, in a worried little voice, “I like Daddy best.” He doesn’t yet understand the ebb and flow of a parent-child relationship, and he worries that he’s hurting me. He always seems surprised by my delight. I tell him, “That’s wonderful. I love you, and sis, and Daddy best.”
Sam’s a carbon copy of Scott.… Read the rest